


Safe House

by PrinceEli



Category: Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Harley goes to a farmer's market, Pamela has an accent now, Road Trip!, also harley has a fondness for nicotine, ao3 was being very janky while i was uploading this full warning, it was either that or Maine but I don't know shit about Maine, mentions of domestic abuse in chapter 2, my best friend is from vermont and she's hilarious, no beta i die like the bitch writing gay fanfiction at 2am i am, pamela knows people, so im going to assume Vermont, technically the showrunner said he didn't know where Ivy is from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25643380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceEli/pseuds/PrinceEli
Summary: Set after the season 2 finale, Ivy takes Harley somewhere special.Home.
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

Long after escaping Gotham, as the sun had started to set, Ivy had Harley pull the car over.

"My turn to drive." Ivy said. Well, it was less of a suggestion and more of a command. Harley, sleepy by this point, acquiesced. She was feeling tired- it had been an emotional day. Fighting off explosions, and her own emotions, always tired out the clown.

Ivy stripped the cans and the "Just Married" sign off the car and stowed it in the backseat.

"Where are we goin', Red?" Harley asked as Ivy started the car.

"I have a safehouse, back home. So we're heading there until Gordon decides that there's more pressing threats and forgets about us." Ivy said, putting the car into first and easing it back onto the highway.

"Home?" Harley asked. "Isn't that in, like, Seattle?" Ivy smiled.

"No, Seattle's not home. I just graduated from school there." Ivy paused. "And besides, I don't go back to Washington unless I have to." Ivy focused her eyes on the road. "Too many bad memories." Harley looked intently at her lover/girlfriend/bestfriend. "Just get some sleep, okay? It'll be another couple of hours."

Harley sighed, annoyed, kicking off her shoes. She leaned into the back and grabbed an oversized RiddleU sweater. She snuggled into it, and snuggled into Ivy, resting her head on her lover's shoulders.

Harley woke up screaming. She had been having some dream, but couldn't remember what, as the car swerved and jerked. Ivy looked to her, apologetic.

"Sorry. That can't have been the nicest way to wake up."

"What the fuck, Ives!? Did Gordo find us?" Harley reached towards the glove compartment to grab her pistols.

"What? Shit, no." Ivy said in response. "Just another fucking suicidal deer, that's all." Ivy grumbled. "I love deer, I think they're gorgeous, and they're an important part of the ecosystem, but fuck, they're stupid as shit. You'd think they've adapted to cars by now, but no." Ivy rambled.

"Wait, sorry, deer? Where the fuck are we, Ives? Clearly not Gotham. Gotham hasn't had a deer in like, a hundred years." Harley pressed. She looked around. There was nobody on the thin, winding road, except for the trees illuminated by the car's headlights.

"We're actually just about there. Just be patient, Harls" Ivy said, smiling. Eventually, after a few more minutes of driving in the middle of nowhere, Ivy took a right onto a dirt road. The old, pink car they were driving was clearly struggling to make it up. Harley doubted the car had ever been offroading. Harley could feel her teeth chatter, and her tits bounce.

"Fuck, Ives, this road's gonna give me a concussion. Or chronic traumatic encephalopathy." Harley complained, holding on to her seat for dear life.

"Harls, if you were going to get CTE, it would probably be a result of getting hit in the head all the time by Batman, not my road." Ivy winked. Harley just sighed in annoyance. She swore she could feel her brain bouncing around in a skull like a sock full of marbles.

Ivy finally turned the car onto what Harley could only hope was a driveway. She couldn't be sure as it, too, was another dirt path sans signage. Finally, after what felt like eons of driving, a beautiful cabin appeared in her headlights. Cabin wasn't a fair word for it, it was much larger, with an A-line roof. Harley could see a balcony draped with fairy lights.

"Oh. That's gorgeous, Ives." Harley whispered. Ivy looked at her and smiled coyly.

"Well, thank you Harls. Here's the key-" Ivy tossed a green key at her. Harley had always wondered what it went to. "I'm gonna go hide this car. Luckily, it's night, since this car isn't exactly inconspicuous. There's probably an APB out for this car across the country. Wouldn't want the neighbors to see it." Harley looked around.

"Your neighbors... the trees?" Harley asked. All she could see were trees, then blackness, which Harley assumed was just more trees.

"Oh yeah, they're a couple of miles up the road." Ivy said. "In Gotham, those wouldn't be neighbors, they would be in a different fuckin' borough, Ives. Where are we?" Harley asked. Ivy smiled and looked up to the stars, which Harley realized they could actually see.

"Home." Ivy sighed happily. "Vermont."

* * *

"Wake up, Harley." Ivy said, planting kisses on Harley's neck. She moved her lips down Harley's back and reached her hands under Harley's shirt to play with her breasts. "Come on, we have to get up."

Harley moaned in response.

"Red, what fuckin' time is it?" Harley grabbed a pillow and put it in front of her eyes.

"Almost nine. Come on, we have to be there soon." Ivy sounded.... well, excited. Harley hadn't known Ivy to be excited about anything except for, well, ecoterrorism. Grumbling, Harley sat up. She was a bit surprised at what she saw. Namely, Ivy. Ivy was dressed in a way that Harley had never seen before. She had a black, graphic t-shirt on, although Harley couldn't tell what it said. Besides that, Ivy was wearing a thick, red flannel, a black beanie and... were those black skinny jeans? Harley looked down to see thick, brown boots. Ivy had tucked most of her hair into her beanie, and had a normal human skin tone.

"See?" Ivy said. "I'm already dressed. There are clothes everywhere, you can wear anything you want. We're going incognito today, though." Harley begrudgingly shed her pajamas, which were really just panties and a t-shirt, courtesy of Ivy. The cabin, though, felt like an icebox, and Harley preferred staying in bed.

"Red, I'm freezing my dick off, here." Ivy laughed, a sweet, rare, cackle.

"You'd be warmer if you got dressed, but, in the meantime, I'll start the stove." Ivy sauntered off to another room. Harley could hear thick footsteps descending into what she presumed was the basement. Harley grabbed thick, wool socks. She was freezing, and Harley guessed that Ives didn't have any shoes in her size. Pam's feet were definitely a few sizes bigger than Harley. She opted for a pair of thick denim jeans, and a white t-shirt. Harley found a nice, vegan leather bomber jacket. It was nice and wooly on the inside. Harley painstakingly searched for a makeup, and luckily, found a pale foundation and blush. Acid-white skin was pretty distinctive, and she didn't have the luxury of changing skin tone willy-nilly like Ivy did. Harley sighed deeply, as she saw a pair of scissors in the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, Harley cut off the pink-and-blue tips she loved so much. Harley then evened out her haircut. Unfortunately, she had the inkling they would be on the run for a bit, and her neon distinctive hair could be a problem. Harley looked in the mirror and didn't recognize herself. She smiled. That was the whole point. She had done a good job.

Harley stumbled into the main room of the cabin. It was fairly small by house standards, and definitely by the standards of the mall she had been living in for the last few months, but it just felt... cozy. There were giant windows on the far hand side, looking out into the forest and the pond below. Harley smiled, seeing the large, comfy-looking couch with a nice fleece blanket on top. More importantly, there was TV. And a transparent mini-fridge full of wine. So this trip wouldn't be boring, she supposed. She had figured Ivy and her would just fuck each other's brains out, like they did last night, for the entirely of the trip, which did sound fun. But there were only so many orgasms one could have.

Ivy was nowhere to be found.

"Red?" Harley called.

"In the garage!" Ivy's faint voice could be heard.

When Harley entered the garage, she found Ivy messing around under the hood of a car. Ivy smiled upon seeing her.

Harley was surprised to see an SUV in the garage. "Really Ives? Never saw you as a SUV kinda girl, Miss Ecoterrorist." Harley said, pointedly.

"It's electric, Harls. And you kinda need a four wheel drive car up here. I tried other cars, but that dirt road is not kind to cars with that low clearance. It's been charging since last night, so, let's go!" Ivy opened the passenger's door for Harley. _How chivalrous._ Harley thought.

Ivy drove for about twenty minutes while Harley begged her for an ATV. "Come on, Ives, you must have a lot of land, right?" Ives looked at her.

"Yeah, a couple miles of trees and plants, that definitely don't want you driving all over them. My place is basically a nature preserve, not that'd you'd need one here. The whole state is about eighty percent trees, anyways." Ivy hummed in contentment.

Finally, they pulled into a parking lot, which was surrounded by tents and bustling people. "What in the fuck is this?" Harley asked. Ivy turned to her, grinning wildly. Harley couldn't tell yet if it was maniacal or not.

"The Farmers' Market!" She grinned.

Harley had never been to a Farmer's Market before. Mostly because that's the sort of thing she associated with happy childhoods and rich parents, and while Pammy didn't have the first one, she definitely had the second.

She had never seen Ivy in her element like this before. Ivy was actually... talking to people, who weren't criminals. And she didn't seem murderous either. They actually seemed to know her. One farmer beamed at seeing Ivy.

"Dahlia! Nice to see ya'!" What was weirder is that Pammy- or Dahlia? Beamed back. Pammy was beaming at an older man in overalls and mud boots.

"Craig! Nice to see you! How was the crop this year?" Ivy said, strolling over to his booth. _What the fuck_. Harley thought.

"Yeah, no, it was decent!" He responded cheerily.

"Still pesticide-free, I hope?" Ivy winked at him. Winking? _Poison Ivy, murderer, misanthrope, winking at men? Who she wasn't trying to kill?_

"You know it, Dahls. We haven't seen you in a bit, how's things? We've all seen the news comin' out of Gotham." He asked, concerned.

"Oh, it's shit. Villains were divvying up the whole city, we couldn't get clean water. We finally got a change to run, and well, here we are. It's not like my job is a priority right now." Ivy said.

"Speaking of we, who's this pretty lady?" The man, Craig, asked, pointing at Harley. Harley stammered. She was not expecting to have to come up with a fake name this fast. Damn her parents for naming her Harleen.

"Oh hi!" Harley said, a bit surprised. "My name is, uh Harper! Harper Smith. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Craig looked shocked.

"Dahlia Smith." He said accusatory. "Did.... you get married while you were away!?" Harley blanched, or at least she would've, under her thick coat of foundation. Of course, Ives had chosen smith as her fake last name. It was the most common surname in the fuckin' country, which is why Harley used it so quickly. Ivy also looked surprised.

"Yep!" Ivy said. Harley knew her well enough to know she was scrambling on the inside. "Just married! Mrs. and Mrs... Smith." Ivy grinned.

"Well congrats, Dahls!" Craig smiled, and patted her on the back. "Glad to see you back, especially with a beautiful wife in tow." Ivy perused Farmer Craig's produce. There was a variety of produce, and even some meat in a mini-fridge. Harley salivated. She missed meat. Ivy and Craig were talking the whole time. Harley tuned it out and was instead looking the delicious looking steak and ribs Craig had in the freezer.

"I hope the creeme stores are still open this late in the season. Harper's never been. Oh, I noticed the sign was gone at the in'nersection" Ivy said. "What happened?"

"Oh you know, some flatlanders came down off their hotel on the moun'ain, pulled some shit, tried flipping some of my cows, ran off, crashed their shit jeep into the sign."

"Figures. Bunch'a leaf peepers up this time of year, none of them with any sense."

Harley was more shocked to hear Ivy talking with... an accent. It was a faint one to be sure, not as strong as Craig, who was sayin' shit like _'keow'_ instead of cow, and _'shore'_. instead of sure. Ivy noticed Harley's confused face.

"What's wrong, h-babe?" Normally, Harley would've swooned at attention from Ivy.

"I've literally never heard you talk like that." Harleen deadpanned. "Also, what the hell's a flatlander?" Craig guffawed at her. Harley didn't like Craig. She even caught Ivy stifling a laugh.

"Sorry, love. Your wife's got a Vermont accent. She's a woodchuck, through and through." Craig said.

"I have literally no idea what that means either." Harley said. To her annoyance, Craig and Ivy just laughed louder. "Okay, Miss _Woodchuck_ , here's a funny one for ya': you gotta buy me some steaks to make up for this _senseless_ bullying. I haven't had meat in ages." Harley shoved an armful of steaks at her.

"Harley, you know how I feel about meat-" Ivy started to say, when Harley interrupted her. "Yeah, yeah, carbon emissions and animal cruelty 'n all that. But isn't Craig selling the most ethical, local meat one can buy?" Harley asked, smirking. She knew how to get her way.

"Oh, _shore,_ darling. As ethical as meat can be. If you're interested, I also got some raw milk and cheese curds. Raw milk is just milk but better." Harley liked Craig.

By the end of their stint at Craig's stand, Ivy had unwillingly filled up her reusable bag with cheese, cheese curds, steak, some raw milk, and the corn. Ivy had just come to Craig for the corn, not his meat products. Harley waved cheerily at Craig, who waved back.

"Babe, we still have to get other produce. I would've stopped at Craig's last if I knew you were going to try raw milk and buy cheese. Raw milk especially shouldn't keep out of the fridge for long."

"I didn't know you had an accent." Harley said. She realized that what she felt might actually be jealousy, that all these random people knew things about Pam that she didn't. Like her accent. Or what a flatlander is. 

"Sorry, love. I don' know why it slips out when I'm home. To be fair, you don't slip into your Jewish-Boston accent unless you're with your mom" Ivy said.

"I know, but you knew I had an accent! I'm just sad I didn't know this about ya." Harley said. Ivy reached for Harley's hand, intertwining their fingers.

"I'm sorry, babe. I promise I'm not keeping secrets from you, I just don't notice my own accent anymore." Harley squeezed Ivy's hand. Harley paused.

"What's a creemee?"

* * *

Harley had demanded coffee on their way back, so Ivy was popping into a local place, refusing to go to a chain like 'Dunkies', which apparently Ivy says now. Harley looked around. The trees were beautiful, she had to admit, starting to turn orange and red. It felt like the trees were absorbing the town, with large hills and mountains looming over the village. It felt different here. Harley had jumped from Boston to Gotham U, started working at Arkham and then as a villain. She supposed she never spent time in small towns like this. Mostly because there was nothing to heist. Harley missed heists. Ivy came back, jogging with two coffees in hand. Harley leaned over to the driver's side to open the door for her.

"Thanks, Harls. Here is your large mocha with three shots of espresso, extra whip, extra shavings, and two pumps of caramel." Ivy teased.

"Don't act like you're so much better, Miss Vanilla, Bone-dry, Soy Cappuccino." Harley shot back.

"Oh Harley," Ivy said. "You of all people should know I'm not vanilla." Ivy winked. Harley felt her face blush as she revisited last night. 

As Ivy started the car and looked to see if she could back up onto the main road, Harley warmed her hands around the cup.

"I didn't even know you were from here." Harley said. "You seem... different, here." A car had stopped behind Ivy and waved. Ivy waved back, backed out of her parking spot, and drove away.

"Yeah. I mean, Batman doesn't know I'm from here. I like to keep it under wraps. I only let people I trust completely know. So, just you, I guess." Ivy reached over to squeeze Harley's hand.

"Did... you ever take Kiteman here?" Harley asked. Ivy looked to the road. Ivy sighed.

"No, actually. I told him I was from Connecticut. That should've been a warning sign for our relationship, in hindsight. But I'm not from this town, I'm actually from a few hours north." Ivy turned right at the 'innersection'. She sighed. "I feel different here, but, in a good way. Like, most of the state is trees. Actually, Burlington is the first city in the country to completely run on renewable energy." Ivy paused. "I was always shy, but I didn't always hate people. Everybody I ever truly trusted betrayed me- my parents, Woodrue." Ivy sighed. "Do you remember that one time, when you were my psychiatrist, and you asked me if I felt like humanity was redeemable?"

Harley smiled. "Yeah, it was after you tried to turn everyone into plant people, right?"

Ivy laughed, it seemed like a fucking ridiculous idea now. "Yeah, Harls, it was. But I was lying then. I've always felt safe here. I think it has to do with the small town energy. And Vermont loves gay people just as much as Boston does."

Harley grinned at that. She did always feel safe, at least, in her queerness, in her hometown.

"I dunno, Harls, I just... wanted to make sure I could always come back here. Not just because it's a great safe house and it isn't too far from Gotham. You remember when I used to get really angry and disappear?" Ivy asked.

"Yeah, you ass, I was always worried about ya'!" Harley said, lightly smacking Ivy on the arm. Ivy smiled, mouthed 'sorry' at Harley, then looked desperately sad.

"When I'm in Gotham, I hear the plants scream. I hear it all the time." Ivy whispered. "I hear the tiny grass, the one that desperately tries to grow through the crack in the sidewalk wail as people step on it incessantly. I hear the algae and moss of the river scream as more pollution accumulates. It's a cacophony of pain. I hear it all the time." A single tear falls onto Ivy's jeans. "So when I can't take it anymore, I come here. I mean, Swamp Thing has his Bayou, and I have here. Sure, there's pain, but there's also the contentment of the trees. It keeps me sane." Ivy said. "And every once in a while, I run out of good maple syrup.

Harley smiled. "I'm glad you have this place, Ives. And I'm glad ya trust me with it." Harley smiled at Ivy, who was smiling just as hard back. "I'm glad you have your farmer's market and your local coffee shops and your rustic cabin with fairy lights. But that's not what's important.

"Oh?" Ivy asked.

"The important question is: Can you teach me how to ski?" Ivy laughed and nodded. 

As they drove back to their cabin, Harley piled on with more demands and questions. 

"I wanna go to the Ben 'n' Jerry's Factory, too. Oh, and I want ta dirtbike. Will I die if I drink raw milk, and is it worth it? is Bernie Sanders as nice as he seems? What is a flatlander and why are you a woodchuck?" Ivy laughed the whole way home, dodging promising Harley a dirtbike or anything else the blonde wanted. 

Her safe house felt a little safer. 

And a lot less lonely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy learns new things about Harley, too.

Harley didn't think this cabin could get any colder. And yet, waking up, she realized that she was wrong. It was frigid. It was also far too early to be awake, but Harley had been freezing for hours.   


"Ivesssss", Harley whined, snuggling up to the redhead sleeping beside her. 

It was rare that Harley woke up before Ivy, but Harley had been having dreams that she was freezing to death. Mr Freeze had been there, taunting her. Unfortunately, the half-plant half-human next to her didn't throw off enough heat to keep Harley warm. Ivy shifted in bed, half-awake. 

"Mhmmm. Good morning." Ivy mumbled.

  
"Red, it's fucking freezing in here. Why do you insist on living in a damn freezer? Christ, you're worse than Nora." Harley whined. Ivy sighed, now a bit more awake. 

"It's not supposed to be this cold." She mumbled. "Stove's probably broken. I'll fix it later." Ivy moaned, covering herself in more comforter. Harley sighed, resigned that her lover wouldn't be waking up any time soon. Harley reluctantly left her bed to look for more suitable pajamas; it seemed that her oversized t-shirt and panties would not be enough to stave off the cold. Finding a thick pair of sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and her Riddle U sweater, she quickly put them on, hissing as the cold surrounded her body as she stripped. She quickly dove back into bed, wrapping her arms around Ivy and planting kisses on the back of her neck. Finally warm enough, Harley fell back asleep.

* * *

  
When Harley woke up, it was much brighter and her bed was much emptier. She wandered out to the main room to find a note on the fridge.

  
_Stove is fucked. I'm driving a couple towns over to the good hardware store to see if I can get a new one. There's an omelette in the pan. It's got goat cheese from the Farmer's market in it._

  
Harley looked over to the stove top and was excited to see a pan, covered with a lid. When she opened it, she sighed contentedly. There was indeed a beautiful omelette in there, courtesy of Pam. It looked extra cheesy, just how Harley liked it, with what looked like chives and... garlic? Harley wasn't sure. Maybe it was basil. She laughed quietly to herself: _there's a reason why Pammy cooks and I'm the one who picks up takeout._ Harley could probably set a fire boiling water. Harley was intelligent, and incredibly skilled at many things, but cooking wasn't one of them. Harley resumed reading the note. 

  
_You can cook some of your steak if you want, but the meat is your responsibility; I'm not touching it. Text me what you want for dinner, if I get any service. If I don't hear from you, I'm getting us food from the Korean-Chinese fusion restaurant._

_Be good._

_Love, Ives._

Harley loved the lipstick kiss at the end of the note. Their relationship was still new, but they had lived together for so long that Pamela knew her well. Harley warmed her omelette and scarfed it down. The omelette was fairly heavy, and very filling, though, and Harley was more than content without her steak. It was still freezing in the house, but Harley felt warmer in her new pajamas and full. The only thing that could make it better was Ivy's presence. 

  
Harley wandered over to the living room section of the room and was pleasantly surprised. There was a half-wall between the kitchen section and the living room. She hadn't really explored this room yet, being too busy with farmer's markets and screwing each other's brains out. There was a TV, a comfortable couch, and plenty of blankets, but Harley hadn't noticed the large, gas, of course, fireplace that rested against the divider. Above the fireplace were a few guitars hanging up. Harley doubted that Pam played, but they were great decorations. Harley grabbed the remote and tried to figure out the TV. Of course, each fuckin' 'smart' TV is completely different. Not smart at all. Harley thought to herself. Finally, she managed to open up Netflix.

  
Much to Harley's dismay, her finagling with the TV was pretty much pointless. Red had assured her that the cabin had wifi, but Harley doubted one could consider this wifi. It buffered every five minutes, completely ruining the tension in her show. The bandwidth had to be terrible, too, because even when the wifi was working, the picture on the screen was garbage. It felt like watching TV in 2009.   
"This is a fuckin' waste of time", Harley moaned. Harley checked her phone, and of course, she had no service. _Great._ Harley thought.  
\-----------  
Ivy returned later, with a new stove in her backseat, and Korean food resting next to her. There were a few plants in the backseat as well, Ivy couldn't resist. Ivy's favorite score was the lavender plants in the back. Ivy was just happy she could actually get Korean food in such a remote location, although Harley would probably be dismayed that the restaurant was over an hour away. She pulled up to her garage, and exited the car. She would make Harley help her carry the new stuff in, the heater in particular was heavy as hell. It took four retail workers to help Ivy load it into the car, although it would've been easier if she could've used her vines. Which would've been unwise. Ivy heard the faint melody of a guitar. 

  
_Huh_? Ivy thought to herself.

Abandoning the stove, plants, and Korean food temporarily, she wandered in search of the melody. She couldn't figure out where it was coming from. As Harley mentioned last night, she could scream as much as she wanted and nobody could hear them- they were completely isolated out here. Ivy worked her way under the porch, which stretched from the second story over the backyard. Ivy looked up to see Harley, her legs kicked up on top of the banister, smoking her vape and fiddling with a guitar. Ivy had long banned cigarettes in her house or apartments, but it was a habit Harley had picked up with the Joker. For all her psychiatric training, Harley couldn't shake it. Ivy sat down, content to listen. She leaned against the side of the house, relaxing in the smell of grass and the sound of the sweet, acoustic guitar Harley started to play.

_Playing expertly,_ Pam thought to herself. _I didn't know Harley could play guitar._ That girl was always full of surprises. She was even more surprised when Harley started to sing. Ivy had hear her sing along to plenty of bullshit pop songs on the radio, but nothing like this. Harley sounded different, thoughtful, and a bit sad. 

_His eyes and words are so icy_

_Oh but he burns_  
_Like rum on the fire_  
_Hot and fast and angry as he can be_  
_I walk my days on a wire._

_It looks ugly, but it's clean,_  
_Oh Ivy, don't fuss over me._

  
Ivy felt tears starting to swell in her eyes. She of course, was overjoyed when Harley had finally realized that the Joker treated her like garbage and left that sack of shit. But it had taken years for that to happen, and Ivy knew Harley still carried around the scars, both physical and emotional, from that time in their lives. Not to mention her mango-flavored nicotine dependency.

_The way he tells me I'm his and he is mine_  
_Open hand or closed fist would be fine_  
_The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine._

  
Ivy closed her eyes and listened to the rest of the song, feeling guilt seep into her bones. Ivy felt like she was intruding on something personal, even if that wasn't intentional. She had sat down simply to appreciate the music. She certainly hadn't expected Harley to pour her heart out like this. Harley never liked to dwell on the past, mostly focusing on future heists and plans. Ivy was the more likely one to dwell, certainly. But the sound of Harley was too magnetic for Pam to move away from.

  
She listened to the rest of the song, wiping tears away every few minutes, then snuck back to the car, careful to not to make too much noise on the gravel.

  
"Harls!" She called. "Come help me bring this stuff in!" 

  
"Coming!" Harley responded, bounding into the house, down the stairs, and into Ivy's arms. "I missed you!" She grinned. Ivy kissed the top of her head. 

"I missed you too, Harls. Would you grab the takeout? I'll get the plants. I'm sure the vines will help carry the stove in."  
When they meandered up the stairs, Ivy spotted the guitar laying on the couch. _Perfect._ Ivy thought.

"I didn't know you played the guitar, Harls." Pam said, innocently. "I guess we're both learning new things about each other on this trip."

  
"Oh yeah! I took a few classes in music therapy at college. Actually, I used ta teach music therapy at Arkham in addition to counseling." Harley chirped. 

"Wait, really? Why wasn't I ever invited?" Pam whined. Harley grinned at her. 

"Well, maybe it's 'cause they didn't trust 'that plant bitch' with any wood?" Ivy scoffed. 

"I can't do shit with dead plants, Harls!" She complained. 

"Well sure, I know that now, but Arkham security was never quite sure how much power you had. I worked with a bunch of villains, though. It was an easy way into a buncha psyches. You can learn a lot about what songs they wanted to play." Harley said, happily. 

"Who the fuck learned guitar at Arkham?" Ivy demanded. 

"Well, I shouldn't say, 'cause of doctor-patient confidentiality, but Killer Croc was a regular. Bane got pretty good, too. Mr. Freeze wasn't bad neither. Clayface wanted to play, but we never took him out of cell for any reason." she explained.

"I'm sorry, you taught Killer Croc to play guitar?"

"Oh yeah, the dude's a big Manson fan." Harley commented. 

"What." Ivy said. 

"Bane likes Lana del Ray, if that's any consolation." Harley mentioned. 

"Jeezus." Ivy said. "Actually, after our time in The Pit with him, that actually kind of makes sense. So, you wanna play something for me?" She asked, winking. Harley giggled. 

"Sure Red, but after I get my hands on this takeout. I'm starving!" Harley said.   


The takeout did smell pretty good, actually. The aroma had been taunting Pam the entire drive home. Ivy had used most of her willpower to avoid pulling over into some gas station parking lot and stuffing her face. Korean and Indian was actually a common takeout for them, as Harley could get meat, and Pam could get a vegetarian dish that wasn't just noodles or salad. 

After stuffing their faces with scallion pancakes, bibimbop for Ivy, bulgoki for Harley, and they both had a few drinks, Ivy found herself curled onto the couch with her head in Harley's lap. It was still freezing in the house, Pam had given up on installing the new heater herself. Harley thoughtfully tuned an electric guitar Pam had found for her in a spare room. It was a light pastel blue, and that's about all Pam knew about it. Harley had finally tuned the guitar to her satisfaction, humming the whole time. The amp next to the couch hummed with her. 

"Ready, Pammy?" she asked. Pam snuggled into her lover. 

"Always." Ivy replied. 

Harley started to strum the guitar and managing the peddle at the same time. "This was a favorite at Arkham." She said, grinning mischievously. She gently played the into to the song, and grinning the whole time, started to sing.

  
_The lunatic is on the grass_  
_The lunatic is on the grass_  
_Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs_  
_Got to keep the loonies on the path_  
_The lunatic is in the hall_  
_The lunatics are in my hall_  
_The paper holds their folded faces to the floor_  
_And every day the paperboy brings more_

_And if the dam breaks open many years too soon_  
_And if there is no room upon the hill_  
_And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too_  
_I'll see you on the dark side of the moon_

_The lunatic is in my head_  
_The lunatic is in my head_  
_You raise the blade_  
_You make the change_  
_You rearrange me till I'm sane_  
_You lock the door_  
_And throw away the key_  
_And there's someone in my head but it's not me_

_And if the cloud bursts thunder in your ear_  
_You shout and no one seems to hear_  
_And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes_  
_I'll see you on the dark side of the moon._

  
"That was beautiful, Harley." Ivy said. Ivy found herself grinning, too. "I see why it was a favorite at Arkham."

  
"Yeah, well, I only picked up the guitar 'cause your wifi is shit." Harley said, embarassed. 

"Well, maybe I should fuck up the wifi even more." Ivy said. Harley looked shocked. 

"Dont'cha dare, Red." She said, aghast. "I miss my shows! I'm gonna be so behind when we get back, and Clayface is shit at keepin' spoilers to himself." She complained.

There was a silence in the air. Neither of them knew when they would be returning to Gotham. Ivy was certainly content to be here.

Harley paused, and said, quietly: "Hey, I love you, Ives."

  
"I love you too, Harls". Ivy said, embracing the blonde. They laughed at the guitar poked into their stomachs as they hugged. 

"Don't fuck up my guitar!" Harley complained.

"Your guitar?" Ivy asked, teasingly. Harley nodded.

"Oh, she's mine now. Her name's Lucy." Harley stated. 

"You can have her if you play me some more." Ivy said, cheekily, running her hand through Harley's hair.

Harley sighed happily, nodded, and started a new song.

  
And that's how the spent their second day in their little cabin, getting progressively drunker in front of a roaring fireplace (Harley had insisted), cuddled up under a swarm of blankets, while Pam requested a multitude of songs. 

  
It was so unlike how they spent their nights in Gotham. 

They were at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was not really planning on writing more for this, but i will live and die in a cottagecore au. and your comments were good motivation. also ao3 is still being janky when I upload this, so sorry for any errors i have inevitably missed
> 
> i wonder what kind of music mr. freeze would play though.


	3. Sunday Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley and Ivy have a great morning. that's it.

Harley drifted in and out of sleep, softly and contentedly. She had first woken up to a low roll of thunder cascading distantly through the sky. 

  
When she woke next, she sighed, listening to the now-present rain fall then slide down the a-line roof above their heads. Harley scooted closer to Ivy, wrapping her pale arms around Ivy's warm, toned torso. Gently, she entangled her legs with Ivy's, and smelled her rose-scented hair. 

  
Harley loved that smell. Even in Arkham, with limited access to showers, and no access to Ivy's favorite, organic, palm-oil, paraben-free conditioner, Ivy smelt of flowers. Especially roses. It wasn't that faux-floral scent that came out of a perfume bottle or conditioner. She smelt like a garden in springtime. 

When Harley was sad- when Ivy was spending all her time with Kiteman, or after a particularly bad beating by the Joker, Harley would wander into any garden she could find. It was more difficult, after Gotham's descent into chaos, but even if Harley could only find one plant, it set her at ease.

  
Once, she had sat in a bush of hydrangeas, her knees tucked up to her chest, with only the top of her blonde head sticking out of the bush. 

She had stayed like that for hours.

  
Harley didn't need to do that anymore. She had her Ivy. 

Specifically, she had a half-naked, sleeping Ivy in her bed at this very moment, with her braided hair tickling Harley's face. Harley squeezed Ivy gently and drifted back to sleep.

When Harley awoke, Ivy was no longer sleeping on her side, instead, Ivy was on her back, and Harley found herself nested between her arms. The rain was falling harder now, with the thunder rolling in closer. Harley had never been so calm and content before. It wasn't really her style. It felt like waking up, hours before any alarm went off, with the knowledge that you had all the time in the world. Of course, it's not as if Harley had any alarms set, this was a purely romantic getaway (well, a getaway from Jim Gordon. And Kiteman). And for Harley, that meant not waking up to any alarms. Just sunlight, or occasionally, groping. 

  
That's the way Harley liked it, anyhow.

  
The air in the house was still cold, although not freezing, like yesterday. The bed, though, was perfect. It was warm, but not scalding, and it provided the sweetest contrast between the bed and the cold air. And of course, Harley loved the strong arms wrapped around her.   
The final time Harley woke up that morning was to the sensation of sunbeams on her cheek and fingers running through her hair. She was still wrapped up in Ivy's arms. 

"Mhmm" Harley sighed contentedly.

  
"You up, buttercup?" Ivy asked, quietly.

  
Harley answered by twisting her lithe, athletic body around, and straddling Ivy's lap. Harley gently traced Ivy's jawline, and kissed her softly. Harley would never take this for granted- her lips were soft and never cracked, unlike Harley's, and Ivy's lips always tasted sweet. Besides, most people would be dead or mind-controlled. Harley was in a rare echelon of people afforded this priviledge, and she would never forget it. 

  
After breaking apart, more out of a need for oxygen than anything else, Harley looked into Ivy's emerald-green eyes. 

"I'll take that as a yes", Ivy teased. 

"Oh, shaddup", Harley said, blushing. Ivy crept one hand up Harley's shirt and softly grabbed Harley's hair, pulling her closer. 

"I love you, Harls". she murmured in between kisses. Ivy pinned Harley down, kissing her neck, down to her clavicle, and then trailed lower.

Now that was how Harley preferred to wake up.

* * *

  
After their morning romp, Harley had taken a quick shower. _Lord knows I need one, after two days of sex and drinkin'._

  
Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a thick, fuzzy, green bathrobe, and excited the bathroom. The warm, humid bathroom was a sharp contrast to the colder air and even cooler wooden floorboards. The new heater had been installed, and Harley was gradually getting used to the chillier weather. Still, it was freezing compared to the boiling heat of the shower. Harley slipped her feet into her now-favorite fuzzy pastel blue slippers. Harley meandered into the main room. 

  
Harley had stepped into Heaven, she was sure of it. Maybe I've been dead this whole time, she wondered. She had never seen a more beautiful sight. On her left, the large windows of the chalet showed the splotches of orange as the trees started to change color. But that beauty paled in comparison to the view on Harley's right. Ivy was wearing one of Harley's oversized joke shirts, a white and green ringer shirt that Harley knew said "Planties > Panties". She was wearing green, lacy panties, an apron that reached her thighs, and... nothing else. The kitchen smelled godly, like a coffee shop, likely due to the fact that Ivy was bending over to tend to something on the stove. On the kitchen island behind Ivy, there was a large mug, which was one that Harley bought that read "Plant Daddy"   
Harley chuckled. _I like my taste in jokes_ , she thought, knowing well that Ivy thought her sense of humor was ridiculous. There was also a large plate with... _pancakes! Fuck yes!_

And then Ivy started to sing to herself. 

Harley had never heard Ivy sing before. Ivy had started faintly humming the nostalgic tune, until she worked up enough confidence to sing the lyrics. It seemed like Harley's musical jam session from the night before, had inspired her to put on a concert of her own, except that Harley doubted Ivy knew she was there. 

_Elle est entrée dans mon cœur_   
_Une part de bonheur_   
_Que je connais la raison_

_C'est tout pour moi_   
_Moi pour elle dans la vie_   
_Elle me l'a dit, le jure pour la vie_

_Et dès que je la vois_   
_Alors je me sens en moi_   
_Mon cœur battre_

"An' I didn't think this morning could get any better." Harley said, in an attempt to be sultry, but she cringed- it came out more of a cocky mutter. Harley didn't do subtle sexy well. She did: "Take off your shirt, now", well enough, but Ivy was the Queen of Seduction. Ivy still made Harley nervous, like there was a thousand butterflies rippling through her veins. "Whatcha making?" Harley asked, walking towards her love. 

  
Ivy turned her head towards Harley. "Ah! Shit, Harls, you surprised me." Ivy paused to catch her breath, her cheeks turning a darker green. Stuttering, she said "How was your shower?" 

  
"Mhmm, it would've been better with you in it." Harley responded, another attempt to be sultry. This one worked a bit better than the last attempt. She wrapped her arms around Ivy's stomach again, tracing her panty line and pressing her body against Ivy's, swaying against her. "I didn't know you spoke French," Harley teased, "or that you had the voice of an angel." Harley couldn't see Ivy's face, but knew her cheeks were probably forest green by now. Harley was the only person who could tease Ivy like this. 

"Oh, eat your damn breakfast, Harls" Ivy said, embarrassed. 

"Will you keep singing to me?" Harley begged.

"Absolutely not." Ivy deadpanned. 

"Oh, but Red, you're my angel of muuuusic", Harley, of course, sang the last part. 

"Nope." Ivy said, turning her attention back to her bowl of dough. At least, Harley had thought it was dough, but Ivy towered above Harley. And Harley may have been more distracted with other things. Like Ivy's panty line. 

“Harley, my hands are covered in flour” Pam whined. "And yours are still wet!"

"Will you at least tell me how you learned French?" Harley asked, pouting. Ivy's accent, her fluency in French, and her beautiful singing voice? How much of Ivy was hiding in plain sight. 

"Who said I was fluent?" Ivy asked, kneading the dough with newfound strength. 

"I dunno, Red, because I took French and all I remember is Frere Jacques?" Harley pointed out.

"Look, okay, I speak passable French. I took it in middle school and high school. It's actually pretty useful here, it makes trips to Montreal a lot more interesting." Ivy grinned mischievously. "l'âge de boire est de dix-huit ans" she winked. 

"Ives, frere jacque." Harley said, exhasperated. 

"The drinking age is eighteen there, Mon Cherie. Now, I would like to remind you that I, Poison Ivy, lovingly made you, Harley Quinn, a delicious breakfast made with local ingredients." Harley perked up. 

"Oh shit!" She said, clambering to the bar stool. She grinned. "Pancakes!” Harley exclaimed. T _hese are the epitome of pancakes. Golden, crispy, worthy of bein’ on the fuckin’ Denny’s menu kinda pancakes._ There was also a steaming cappuccino in her ‘daddy’ mug. “Thanks, love-” Harley smiled, picking up her fork and knife, and was about to dig in when Pam interrupted her.

“I have this for you” Pam reached into the cabinets, leaving flour dust spinning through the air, and Ivy's hands grasped an enormous jug of maple syrup. 

“That’s a lot of maple syrup, Pammy.” Harley said. 

“Yes, but it is cheaper when you buy in bulk.” Pam smiled playfully. “Now, if you want the syrup, you must know this one thing: that Mrs. Buttersworth drivel you always buy will be gone from your life.” 

“What? Like, you’re gonna ban me from Missus B’s?” Harley asked, disturbed. Pam closed her eyes and smiled. 

“No, but once you have this stuff- you’ll never be able to go back to ‘Missus B’s’, as you call it. This is Grade A amber, love, straight from Woodstock.” Ivy bragged. 

“The hippy place?” Harley asked. 

“Jesus-” Pam replied. “Shit no, from Woodstock, Vermont? It’s not that far from here.”

“Oh!” Harley said. “Well, on behalf of Missus B, I accept your challenge.” If Ivy was pouring maple syrup for herself, she would only drizzle it, but, knowing Harley, she poured until a small lake formed underneath her pancakes.

  
Now, Harley had fully planned to take a bite and proclaim Mrs. Buttersworth the winner, if only to piss off Pamela (a fun occasion, when done sparingly), but as soon as she tasted it, her eyes widened. 

“This....” Harley started, her mouth full of pancakes and her lips sticky. “should be illegal.” Harley gulped. “Why do y’all do heroin when you could be injecting this stuff into your veins instead?” She looked intently at her plate. “Or injectin’ it straight into my mouth!” Ivy laughed. 

“Honestly, heroin is probably way more expensive than good maple syrup” Ivy said, turning her attention back to what she was baking. 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re right that ya probably ruined Missus B’s forever for me, but why the fuck is this ambrosia so fuckin’ expensive?” She whined. “At least Buttersworth is affordable.”   
Ivy laughed, again. Harley would never get sick of that sound. It was another privilege she had never taken for granted. Most people had heard the 'maniacal Poison Ivy' laugh, but not the sweet, 'making pancakes with love' laugh of Pamela Isley. Ivy opened the fridge and bent down, reaching for something inside.

“I dunno Harls, probably because it takes like, 50 gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup?” Ivy found what she was looking for and was carrying an orchard bag full of apples. It looked like a bag from a local place. 

  
“Fuck, really? This is gonna be an expensive habit for me.” Harley quipped.

“Especially because you drown your pancakes in the stuff?” Ivy asked. 

“Oh fuck you!” Harley laughed. Ivy just grinned that playful grin right back at her. “How much sap can you get from a tree, anyways?”

“Hmm..” Ivy paused. “Hold on, I’m trying to channel my elementary-school-self.”

“You learned about maple syrup in school?” Harley asked, incredulous. 

“Well, yeah, it’s like our major product. We even had like a little wine tasting with all the different grades of syrup.” Ivy said, nonchalantly.

“Your education sounds whack, Red.” Harley stated, her mouth full of pancake. "whack and bougie!"

“I’d guess maybe 10 gallons per tree per season?” Ivy said, although her tone did not belay confidence. “But I think the trees have to be pretty old in order to tap them.” 

Harley cheered: “Yeah, protect the sugar trees!” Ivy smiled at that. Ivy started aggressively mashing the apples into some sort of paste. There was a pause in the room, and Harley loved to fill pauses:

“So, babe, when’d you learn how to cook? You’re like Gordon Ramsay, but like, nice.” Harley thought to herself that she should probably stop talking with her mouth full. Pam was so graceful, and Harley was spitting syrup onto everything near her. And on her. Her hands were pretty sticky at this point.

“I’ve always loved cooking and baking, but it’s hard to find the time and energy when we’re always either planning or pulling heists.” Ivy said. “It’s nice to reconnect with my roots.” Pam went back to kneading the dough.

“So, whatcha cookin’, good lookin’?” Harley asked, teasingly. 

“I’m baking, and it’s apple strudel and chai cupcakes” Ivy said.

“Oooh!” Harley said. "That is tantalizing."

“It is for dessert, Harls. Your syrup intake alone will burrow into your enamel.” 

“Yeah, that’s actually kinda fair. This is so filling anyways, I’ll probably be set for the next coupla hours.” She commented. “It’s really good, by the way.” 

“Anything for you, Harls.” Ivy smiled, softly. "Anything for you.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cottagecore to the extreme, babes


End file.
